The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series)

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.

  For more information, visit Thomas J. Prestopnik’s website at www.TomPresto.com.

  ISBN-10: 0741423626 (Paperback)

  ISBN-13: 9780741423627 (Paperback)

  Dedicated with love and affection

  to my ten brothers and sisters,

  Rich, Mary, Ann, Barbara,

  Bernadette, Theresa, Christine,

  Jim, Sarah and–always–Grace.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE: Back Again

  CHAPTER TWO: More Trouble with Time

  CHAPTER THREE: An Uninvited Guest

  CHAPTER FOUR: The Road to Solárin

  CHAPTER FIVE: Unmasked

  CHAPTER SIX: Wedding Presents

  CHAPTER SEVEN: Departures

  CHAPTER EIGHT: A Piece of the Puzzle

  CHAPTER NINE: Wedding Presents Opened

  CHAPTER TEN: The Promise

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: A Lesson in Motion

  CHAPTER TWELVE: Words of Warning

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Smoke Signals

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Tower Tactics

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN: The Domino Effect

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Kitchen Help

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: The Coronation

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: The Road Back

  CHAPTER NINETEEN: Cats and Dogs

  CHAPTER TWENTY: On the Other Side

  CHAPTER ONE

  Back Again

  The one-eyed giant skipped merrily along the side of the road, its teeth as large as playing cards. A wispy white ghost followed closely behind, its footsteps echoing clump clump clump in the frosty night air. The headless horseman scurried to catch up as a string of volcanic sneezes erupted underneath his flowing black cape. The monstrous trio zeroed in on a nearby house standing alone under a cover of stars. Warm yellow light streamed out of its windows, gently washing over the driveway and front lawn.

  One man watched this unfolding scene in secret, safely hidden behind some nearby shrubs. His curious gaze shifted from one strange creature to the next as they approached the front door. He wrapped his cloak tightly about him to ward off a chill, unable to imagine what the three individuals would do once they reached the house. Should he charge ahead and stop them, or perhaps resort to more drastic measures? What strange goings-on he thought with a shake of his head. What had happened to this place over the last four years?

  He stood and peeked over the top of the shrubbery, then raised a hand and began whispering a few words. When the one-eyed giant rang a doorbell, however, and a lady opened the front door and didn’t scream in fright, the man quickly lowered his hand and stopped speaking.

  “Trick-or-treat!” the trio cried in unison, each holding out a cloth bag.

  The man behind the shrubs watched as the lady tossed small objects into the bags while uttering delightful comments to her visitors. He scratched his head and rolled his eyes, unable to comprehend what was happening. And as for that chant of trick-or-treat, he couldn’t begin to imagine what that meant.

  Then the trio left, walking along the road toward the next house over half a football field away. The lady retreated back inside her home. All was quiet save for the steady chirping of crickets and the crackling candle flames inside a dozen jack-o-lanterns sitting on the porch steps and floor.

  The man looked quickly about. No one else was around–human or otherwise–so he stepped out from behind the shrubs and made a mad scramble to the front porch and rang the bell. The door opened suddenly and the lady reappeared lugging a large orange plastic bowl of candy bars. She looked at the stranger with a mix of intrigue and wonder. He stood taller than she, wrapped in a brown cloak with a hood draped over his head of thick gray hair framing a pair of ocean blue eyes. A beard trailed down to his waist.

  “My, what a terrific costume. But aren’t you a little too old to be trick-or-treating?” she said with a smirk, handing him a candy bar before hurriedly disappearing inside.

  The man stood dumbfounded, facing the closed door. “But I don’t want one of these–these–whatever it is!” he muttered to the glowing jack-o-lanterns. He rang the bell again and the lady reappeared.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but only one treat per night. You should know the rules, especially at your age.”

  “Rules? What rules are you talking about?” Artemas said, throwing back his hood. “I just want to speak with the Jordan family.” He handed the candy bar back to the lady. “Forgive me if this sounds like a ridiculous question, but why are you in their house?”

  Her eyes widened like an owl’s. “This is my house and has been for nearly three years,” she said coolly. “Now who may I ask are you?”

  “My name is Artemas, and I apologize for dropping by unannounced, but I’m seeking the Jordan family who lived here four years ago. Do you know where they are?”

  “Look, Rip Van Winkle, I don’t even know who they are. I bought this house about three years ago from a Mr. Abernathy,” she explained, resting the bowl of candy on her hip. “Apparently you have the wrong address.”

  “Oh, no, no, no! I’m quite certain this is the correct establishment,” he said. “I distinctly remember that barn over there.” He pointed to a worn out building standing in the field across the road, nestled among pine trees and shadows.

  “You do, hmmm? Well, it’s a shame that Mrs. Halloway isn’t home now. Perhaps she would know where the Jordans went.”

  “Perhaps…” Artemas said softly, tugging nervously on his beard as he stared at the floor. “This is indeed a mystery.”

  The woman noticed how distressed Artemas appeared and apologized for being brusque. “Maybe if you go to the library you might be able to locate the Jordans on-line.”

  “On what line?”

  “On the computer,” she said, sighing through her teeth. “The Internet?”

  “Oh yes! I remember what one of those looks like. Sam Jordan used a computer in the planetarium to help me determine when–” Artemas caught himself and offered the lady a crooked grin. “Well, no need to go there.”

  She shrugged. “Whatever…”

  “Anyway, visiting the library is an excellent suggestion, and I already know where it is,” he said.

  “I’m so happy for you.” The woman stepped back into the house. “Now I do have to go inside, sir. It’s quite chilly out here.”

  “My apologies again, ma’am, for troubling you so, especially tonight when…” Artemas looked at her with questioning eyes. “Could you tell me what exactly is going on tonight? Why are strange creatures roaming about?”

  “It’s Halloween, mister. You do know what that is, don’t you?”

  “I would like to say that I do, but…”

  “Perhaps you can look up that information in the library too,” she replied with a wave of her fingers as she started to close the door. “Now goodnight and watch out for goblins.”

  “Goblins! Here? What about trolls?”

  But the door slammed shut and Artemas was left alone on the porch with a bevy of glowing pumpkins, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer to his final question. So he draped his hood over his head and walked along the country road. It was less than a mile into town, Artemas recalled, so it wouldn’t take him long to get to the library located two blocks from the museum. The magician’s thoughts were in a flutter and he hoped the fresh air would clear his mind. After all, this was the last place he had ever expected to be again in his lifetime.

  Artemas hurried up the stone steps of the library, greeted once again by a huge glowing jack-o-lantern on the top landing. An assortment of skeletons, ghosts and ogres occupied the fence posts and shrubbery out front, making him scratch his head at the bizarre spectacle.

  “What has happened to these people?” he whispered.

  Artemas opened the front door and entered t
he library, happy to be inside where it was warm and bright. The sight of hundreds of books neatly shelved cheered him at once, reminding him of his parchment scroll collection in his chamber back in Endora. A woman looked up from behind the main desk and breathed a sigh of relief. Miss Mayfield, the head librarian, rushed over to greet Artemas. A pair of glasses dangled from a thin chain around her neck.

  “I thought you’d never get here!” she whispered, grabbing his arm and leading him to a back room. “I’m Mina Mayfield. Nice to finally meet you in person, but you’re nearly twenty minutes late and the kids are starting to get restless. I mean, how many apples can they bob for?”

  “Late? Kids? What are you talking about?” Artemas blustered. “I need you to start up one of those computer contraptions so I can obtain some information in a straight line–or something like that.”

  “Just go in there and do your thing,” she said, not paying attention to Artemas. “The mothers have read ten Halloween stories since I last checked, and some of them are getting as sour as the cider. You’re the main attraction, so get to it!”

  “Get to what? I don’t–”

  Artemas didn’t have another moment to protest, for Miss Mayfield opened a door leading into a meeting room filled with children and pumpkins and streams of orange and black crepe paper, and pushed him inside. The mothers cheered when they saw Artemas in his magical attire and quickly ushered the children to their seats. Miss Mayfield escorted Artemas to the front of the room where a small card table had been set up and turned him to face the crowd. She clapped her hands a few times to quiet the crowd and then put on her glasses and smiled.

  “Children, as the main attraction for this year’s library Halloween party, we have hired Wendell the Wacky Wizard to entertain you with his amazing feats of magic!” she exclaimed amid cheers and applause. “So without further ado, I’ll hand over the proceedings to the star of the show–Wendell!”

  Miss Mayfield extended her arms toward Artemas and backed away, leaving him alone and befuddled in front of forty children munching on candy corn and popcorn balls and sipping warm apple cider. Artemas shrugged slightly and stared uneasily at the faces staring back at him before slowly removed his hood. He looked at Miss Mayfield, at a loss for words, and saw her urging him on to begin.

  “Show us some magic!” a voice called out from the back. “Show us what kind of wizard you really are.”

  “Technically, I’m a magician,” Artemas explained with a raised finger, prepared to elaborate in detail on that point. “Though some of the differences between a magician and a wizard are indeed subtle, let me assure you that…”

  Artemas trailed off when he noticed a few of the children in the front row starting to yawn. Several others squirmed in their seats or concentrated on eating more Halloween candy or staring at the crepe paper streamers hanging from the ceiling.

  “He is going to do tricks, isn’t he?” a girl whispered to her friend in the next seat, loud enough so that Artemas heard. “I don’t want to hear another ghost story!”

  “Fear not, little one,” Artemas said. “You will definitely see some magic tonight.”

  As the crowd cheered again, Artemas recalled with dread his first attempt at magic in this world four years ago. What a struggle it had been to create that grapevine in the Jordan’s living room in the dead of night. Entering this world weakened his magical abilities, and if he stayed here too long, they would cease to exist. Poor Malaban had found that out. But Artemas had arrived only a short while ago and felt as strong as ever. He should be able to perform some magic unimpeded for a few hours yet. If they wanted a magic show, he’d give them one to remember.

  “Hmmm, let’s see,” he considered, scanning the room for an idea. He noticed a boy with a crew cut in the third row holding a small bag and popping a piece of candy corn into his mouth. “Ah ha! I have it!” he said, snapping his fingers. “Young man, bring me a piece of that candy you’re so fond of eating.”

  “Sure,” he said, sauntering up to the front of the room. He handed Artemas a single candy corn from the bag.

  “Thank you.” Artemas held up the triangular piece of candy between his thumb and index finger and examined it closely. “White pointed top, orange middle and yellow base. Not very big either. And you eat these for a treat?”

  “Usually around Halloween,” the boy said. “Want some for yourself?”

  “No thank you,” he said, still paying close attention to the piece of candy while considering his options. Then a gleam formed in his eyes and he smiled. “I think I have just the trick. Pay close attention.”

  The children and adults leaned forward and watched as Artemas placed the single candy corn on the card table in front of him. Then he slowly waved his hand over it and whispered a string of strange sounding syllables. His voice was as raspy as an autumn breeze winding through a field of brittle corn stalks.

  “Gluvitygusragro!” he commanded.

  The room was as quiet as an ant scooting across a sidewalk. All eyes targeted the piece of candy corn lying lifelessly on the card table. Then it moved slightly, or they might have imagined it. Then it moved again, this time for certain. Suddenly the candy corn began to spin around like a needle of a compass gone wild, faster and faster until it became a blur. Slowly, the candy began to grow. First it was as large as a quarter, and then it expanded to the size of a small stone. In no time it increased to the size of a large stone, and then a book, a shoebox, a breadbox, and finally a beach ball. And when at last the spinning stopped, the candy corn rested on the card table like some huge prize-winning watermelon plucked fresh from a garden.

  “A! MAY! ZING!” one of the children uttered in wide-eyed wonder.

  “Is it real?” another asked, poking the colossal confection with a finger.

  “Very real, I assure you,” Artemas said, quite pleased with himself.

  “How–how did you do that?” a breathless Miss Mayfield asked. “You couldn’t have had that hidden up your sleeve.”

  “I’m not at liberty to say,” he replied with a wink. “Magician’s secrets and all that.”

  “Can you do it again?” the boy asked, setting a second piece of candy corn on the table. “Twice would be really amazing!”

  “I don’t see why not!” Artemas said with glee, now in the spirit of the festivities. He never performed in front of such a large audience before, and their enthusiasm made him forget his real mission for the moment.

  Before anyone could say another word, Artemas repeated his magic word–gluvitygusragro!–and the new piece of candy began to spin and grow. He moved the first one aside to the edge of the table to make room for the second. As it grew and grew, the card table shook on its legs from the additional weight. Finally, the magic trick was complete, and two massive slabs of candy corn lay before them. One child tried to lift one of them off the table but could barely budge it.

  “Careful so you don’t hurt yourself!” Miss Mayfield cried. “You might strain a muscle.”

  “Can we break off a piece to eat?” another child asked.

  “Oh gosh, no!” one of the mothers piped up. “You kids have eaten enough sugar tonight. Maybe Wacky Wendell will perform another, less-caloric trick if you ask him politely.”

  “Please!” the children shouted. “Just one more!”

  “I’d love to!” Artemas said, bubbling with delight that his magic was so appreciated. “But what should I do?”

  “Same trick, different piece of candy!” the first boy said, fishing out a cube of caramel wrapped in plastic.

  “Why not!”

  “Uh, maybe that’s not such a good idea,” Miss Mayfield said.

  “Aww, just once more!” the boy pleaded, tossing the piece of caramel into the air above the card table.

  Artemas, caught up in the moment, waved his hand and shouted at the piece of caramel as it shot toward the ceiling. “Gluvitygusragro!”

  Instantly, the candy cube twirled in place in midair as fast as a spinning top
. It expanded to the size of a basketball in mere seconds and cast a whirl of shadows around the room as it continued to grow. All looked on flabbergasted at Artemas’ amazing trick, and even the magician stood tall and beamed with pride, gazing upon the faces of his awed spectators.

  Then the spinning stopped. The onlookers gasped. The candy fell.

  The caramel cube plummeted like a lead weight onto the card table and flattened it to the floor, its metal legs spread out as if some mutant four-legged spider had been crushed. The two giant pieces of candy corn were squashed like wedding cakes, splattering chunks everywhere. The children, mothers and Miss Mayfield all jumped back at once to avoid the collapsing table and flying treats, then the children charged headfirst toward the caramel and candy corn to collect their sugary shares with gusto.

  “Stop climbing over everybody!” Miss Mayfield cried as she and the other mothers tried to pull the children out of the goose pile. “You can’t eat all that candy! Imagine the cavities!”

  “This is the best Halloween ever!” one of the children shouted.

  “I’ve never had so much fun!” another replied.

  Miss Mayfield attempted to lift a smaller child off the mountain of children when a piece of candy corn the size of a softball popped into the air and sailed her way. She caught it with one hand in the nick of time before it splattered on the chair behind her, but lost her balance and tumbled over backward onto the carpeted floor. Her reading glasses slipped off her nose and she stared up at the ceiling with a horrified look in her eyes.

  “This is not how a library party is supposed to be conducted,” she muttered, taking a bite of the candy corn.

  The door flung open at that moment as the children continued their screams of delight. In walked Wendell the Wacky Wizard, dressed in a black cape emblazoned with gold stars and crescent moons, and brandishing a magic wand.

  “Fear not, little ones, I’m here at last!” he exclaimed, then realized not a soul had noticed him except for Miss Mayfield who looked up from the floor with a grimace stretching from one ear to the next.